“Great,” Shea said.
Kate rolled her eyes.
“I’m just sayin’.” Vanessa looked around the table. “There’s a standard note so nobody has to think what to write. You don’t have to go into detail.” Van was addressing Shea now, looking earnestly at her.
She meant well, Dru thought.
Shea extended her arms across the table. “What if he comes back, though? What if he can explain?”
“Then you get married. I’ll dance at your wedding.” Kate smiled.
Shea smiled, too, and Dru’s heart eased a bit. She got her laptop and sat beside Van, and they worked on the note. Shea, Leigh, and Kate broke the list into categories, separating out AJ’s guests, cross-checking addresses.
Dru had called her brother earlier and left a message when he didn’t answer. She’d spoken to a handful of friends, too, the folks who were close enough to her and to Shea that Dru felt they should be contacted personally. Responses had been sympathetic, shocked, and/or horrified, depending on how much they’d heard. Thankfully, no one had asked many questions.
She began to feel the blunt edge of a headache bearing down on her brain. Exhaustion crawled behind her eyes. Excusing herself, she went into the kitchen to find aspirin. She was at the sink when Kate touched her elbow. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Dru said, because lying was best. “Just tired. You doing all right? Erik is looking very happy since you said yes.”
“He is—happy, I mean.”
“You aren’t?” Something in Kate’s tone, her demeanor, made Dru ask.
“I guess. I mean, I care about him. He makes me laugh. Mother and Daddy love him. Mother, especially.”
“I know. He’s all your mom can talk about. But, honey”—Dru lifted Kate’s chin—“you’re the one who’s marrying him, and it’s for life—or it should be. You, more than your mom, should be sure he’s the one, right?”
Kate shifted her glance.
“Are you?”
“He treats me like a queen.”
“Yes,” Dru said, but she was thinking worship wasn’t love.
“I feel so heartbroken for Shea. She’s supposed to be my matron of honor. We dreamed of this our whole lives, that we would be in each other’s weddings, live in the same neighborhood, raise our kids together.” Kate looked at Dru through the film of tears. “We were besties, marrying besties. It was so perfect, you know?”
Dru wrapped Kate in an embrace, murmuring the rote nonsense that in time everything would work out. She wasn’t sure when she was first aware there was a disturbance in the breakfast nook. She heard the sound of the back door closing—not quite a slam but close, then a voice—Dru thought it was Leigh’s—raised in consternation.
Dru followed Kate through the archway.
“Look what Leigh found under the windshield wiper of her car just now.” Shea held up what looked like a three-by-five notecard, marked up with something—pink.
“Is that lipstick? Let me see it,” Dru said.
“Lip liner. It’s an apology, written in lip liner.” Shea handed the card to Dru.
“It says he can’t help himself.” Leigh was loud, almost shouting. “Why did he put it on my car? Why not your car?” She was addressing Shea.
“‘I’m sorry for hurting you,’” Dru read. “‘I’m in trouble and I don’t think I can stop.’” Written in lip liner on paper like the note that was left on Becca’s body. Dru looked up at Shea.
“Anyone could have left it,” she said.
“You don’t recognize the writing?” Leigh asked.
“No,” Shea answered. “It’s printed. Any kindergartner could have written it.”
Standing at Dru’s elbow, Kate said, “We have to call the police.”
“Nooo.” Shea drew out the syllable so that it was almost a moan.
Kate went to her, wrapping an arm around Shea’s waist.
“I’m scared,” Leigh said.
“God, I am, too.” Van sounded as if she couldn’t believe it, that she, of all people, could be afraid.
But she had every reason to be, Dru thought, going back into the kitchen to retrieve her phone, because whoever had authored the note—and who else could it be but AJ—had given fair warning they were going to kill again.
9
I didn’t know who else to call,” Lily said, because the level of her fear, the space it took up in her brain, left no room for an exchange of pleasantries.
“What’s happened?” Edward’s tone was neutral to such a degree that she couldn’t guess what he might be thinking.
“Could you—would you be willing to meet me?” Her breath stopped. She hadn’t known she was going to ask for that.
“Where? When?”
She couldn’t think.
“I’ve had a cancellation this afternoon.” He filled in the silence. “I could be in Greeley and meet you at Bo Dean’s at four. Would that work?”
“Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
A pause came, and it was a little awed, as if neither of them believed in what they’d arranged. They had said they wouldn’t meet again, that it would be wrong on too many levels. She considered taking it back, telling him to never mind, but then he said her name—“Lily?”—and she knew she wouldn’t.
“I’m glad you called,” he told her, and then he was gone.
When her dad woke a while later, she was in the kitchen. “I was writing you a note,” she said.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep.” He went to the sink and, turning on the tap, splashed his face with cold water. “Any news?”
“No.” She handed him a kitchen towel.
“What are you leaving a note about?” He dabbed his eyes and cheeks, wiped along his jaw.
“I thought I’d run up to Greeley, do some grocery shopping. The HEB store there is better than the one in Wyatt.”
Her dad didn’t say anything.
“Is it okay? Will you be all right?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. You don’t have to hover. Don’t we have food here? It’s not like we’re eating a whole lot.”
“Truth?” She held his gaze, not knowing how she managed it. “I need the distraction.” The moment she said it, she wished it back. Suppose he needed a distraction, too? Suppose he asked to come with her?